Friday, May 7, 2010


All her ducks in a row

She tears off scraps of bread

To feed the ducks that move so slow

And she wonders why a creature that can fly

Would waddle and wade

In the murky pond,

Like she did

Before you.

A bald eagle would never wade,

He only floats and soars and flies,

Like she did

When you came

And changed her content ducks

Into singing eagles.

She stands on the dock,

Light as the wind,

Watching the black and white blur

In his quest for something

That her heart echoes.

St. Mark’s Square’s famous pigeons

Sit stupid on the cobbles,

Like she did

When you left,

Unaware of what happened

Or what would happen.

Now stupid on the ground,

All she wants is someone

Who will run through the flock

And disturb the mindlessness a little.

1 comment:

  1. Did you write that? Because if you did, hello Robert Frost!